A Bit of Pirate Booty
by Andthentheymademetheirchief
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow chases down another pirate ship to get what is rightfully his. But when he finds a young English woman taken against her will by said pirates, he gets a little more then he bargained for...as always. JSOC R&R please!
1. On The Morning Star

Author's note: A story? Oh, I _love_ stories! Drinks all around! And that cheese right there is in honor of this being my first Pirates fic. 'Ello gels and gents! I'm the late OrliBloomedMe reborn. And while the username OrliBloomedMe is still kicking, sadly, none of the stories are. hangs head in shame I would like to take this opportune moment to say thanks for reading, if you are, and an even bigger thanks for reviewing, which you will. smirk Constructive criticism is always welcome! Like I said, this is my first pirates fic, so if ye see anything amiss, PLEASE be so kind as to let me know. I do so want to keep original characters- well- original. (As if you could call such a character as Captain Jack Sparrow original. tisk tisk) But alas, I'll keep ye no longer. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is Disney's…obviously. If I did, I'd be living in the Caribbean myself instead of merely writing stories about it. harumph

Betaer: The lovely and talented Melanie! Thank you, my love, for all your diligence and patience, and for also having the courage to speak the truth. :) hugs tight Take all you can!…

Warning: This chap contains a tense situation concerning attempted rape. If ye don't like, I'm sorry, but it's an important part of the story.

And without farther ado…

**Chapter One: **On the Morning Star

"How did it come to this?" The voice was quiet, filled with disbelief and sorrow – barely heard nor answered.

Grace Hamilton wiped at her eyes again, clutching the locket she wore around her neck, and she peered around the small, dark room of her prison. In reality, it wasn't the brig, but a Captain's quarters could hardly be called such. The room stank of unwashed bodies and waste, and she found herself on the verge of spilling the contents of her stomach at her feet. Her bright green eyes had long ago adjusted to the dimness of the cramped living space; the only source of light in the room coming from the small window, located on the wall she was currently pressed against, and through the small sliver of space under the cabin door.

Shaking with fear and the sudden cold, Grace lifted the delicate piece of jewelry to view it better in the limited light. As it lay open in her pale hands she felt her sobs rise in her chest once again. The handsome man that had given her the stunning necklace, the man that had been her husband, was now dead.

"Oh, James…" She cried and buried her face in her hands.

It should have been a simple trip. No complications, as James had promised. They left port from England with the expectations to arrive in Port Royal soon after. It had seemed so simple -- free from anxiety that Grace could hardly figure out how she had landed in the situation that she now found herself -- kidnapped by pirates.

Within three weeks of their travel, in the dead of night was when they had struck. With no warning, the crew had no chance of defeating the pirates, and the shouts and screams of the crew as they fought for their ship still rang in her ears. Then she had seen them, piling into the room, cutlasses raised high and screaming as if they were charging through the gates of hell instead of the small cabin. The raid on the ship had happened so fast, that she couldn't recall when exactly James had been killed. It was all a blur and the next moment James was dead, his nightshirt stained red.

Grace closed her eyes tight against the torturous memory –only hours ago and somehow it felt like centuries had passed.

With relentless effort on her captor's part, she had been dragged onto the main deck; her natural pale complexion taking on an even lighter hue when she spotted the dead bodies of the crew littering the blood stained deck. Grace had never felt so helpless or frightened as she glanced around her. Always a strong person, that inner stability seemed to drain from her limbs when she was forced to meet the man who had been responsible for the bloodshed.

The pirate captain had leered down at her shaking form with such delight in his dark eyes that the memory of it alone was enough to make her choke. She shivered as she remembered how those dark orbs had scrutinized her body, and how she felt dread coil in her stomach when he had ordered his men to lock her up in his own cabin.

Time seemed to drag once inside the cursed room, but Grace hadn't moved from the corner, watching as the room slowly filled with the faint light of dawn. Not a single moment passed without tears being shed.

Her life had gone to hell in the short span of hours.

The sounds of the crew working on the main deck were heard, and an occasional shadow would cast across the door, sending her heart into a panic. The captain had yet to make his appearance, but Grace knew it wouldn't be long until he did. As if her thoughts could make it happen, she suddenly became aware of heavy steps, rising above the din of working men, approaching the cabin door. Heart pounding furiously, the lithe woman rose on trembling limbs, pressing her body hard against the wall of the cabin. She clutched at her neck until her hand grasped the necklace with desperation; the last remains of everything that made her feel safe.

A shadow loomed in front of the door before a key turned the lock, and Grace inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. She prayed silently when the handle moved, and slowly the door opened. The soft light of a lantern formed the visitor in a dark silhouette, but she knew who it was.

The captain was tall, his height alone enough to intimidate the fiercest man, and he seemed to favor the color black. Most of his tattered attire was of the dark color, the only exception being the cream colored shirt he wore beneath his long over coat and assorted buckles. He wore a large tricorne hat, which he presently removed and released to fall onto the chair sitting next to the door, unveiling black hair streaked with white. Grinning, he revealed that he had several teeth missing, and all that were left were either rotting, or very near to falling out themselves. Apart from the horrid mouth, Grace saw faint lines that this man could have once been handsome.

"'Ello, strumpet…" His voice was husky, and he advanced a little farther into the room to place the lantern on the desktop sitting to his left. Once again his eyes scanned over her, causing her to stiffen and feel utterly exposed. "Harlan Buchanan is me name, and this fine vessel that ye have the pleasure o' sailin' the open waters on is me pride and joy: The _Morning Star_," he announced as he began to slowly walk towards her, the heavy fall of his boots on the wooden planks thudding in Grace's ears.

Grace shifted, trying to put any small amount of space between them that might be possible. She knew what ill fate awaited her from the moment she was brought on board, and though that vulnerable side she knew she still possessed longed to cry and beg for mercy, she refused to give in so easily. There was nothing to change her future now, nothing to prevent it from happening, and if there was going to be any dignity left for her to grasp at the end, she knew that she was going to have to fight for it. The monster may take her body, but she would fight the bloody bastard tooth and nail until every ounce of strength drained from her.

The captain of the _Morning Star_ stilled slightly when he saw the glimmer of defiance in her eyes, but then his glazed over in feral hunger. It appeared he enjoyed the thought of resistance on her part, and the look was almost enough to make her quail in her decision to oppose the man in the first place. However, the damned fierce pride that had been her doom in more situations then one, would not abandon her in this one.

"I've been lookin' forward t' this, lassie. I see that fire burnin' in yer eyes, and nothin' would please me more then t' douse it right out o' ye," he growled and then advanced upon her, but no sooner had he gotten within arms length that he suddenly stumbled back, hand raising to his nose that now dripped red, eyes wide in complete shock.

"Do not touch me!" She ground out through clenched teeth.

Dumbfounded, he stared at her heaving form for a moment, taking in the stance she now stood, with both fists raised to the front of her face in defense. Buchanan chuckled harshly, obviously not taking her seriously, but then his face hardened again and he glared at her as he wiped the blood from his nose. "Ye're goin' t' regret that, lass," he threatened, and before Grace knew it, his hand lashed out and grabbed onto one of her wrists. She squealed in surprise as she was roughly yanked forward against his chest, but she recovered quickly, beating against it with her fists. A hysterical scream that seemed foreign even in her own ears surfaced from her throat when she felt his arms tighten almost painfully around her, his lips against her pale neck.

Stars suddenly danced across Grace's vision, and it took several moments for her to regain herself, lifting her head with a pain-filled groan with the realization that the captain had struck her. A new source of fear curled inside of her, while the side of her face throbbed from the pain of the backhanded blow.

"Hold still, strumpet…I promise 'twon't take me long."

Grace stumbled when she was pushed back slightly, the brute man grabbing the top of her night slip and yanking down. It tore the fabric off one of her shoulders, and nearly exposing her chest. She couldn't stop the scream of surprise that came out of her, but she began to strike back in her state of panic – not only his chest, but slapped his face as well.

The act of defiance only angered the man further, and with a low growl, he shoved her to the side, throwing her against the bed. She fell on the coverlet, the stench of musk, sea water and other nameless things catching at the back of Grace's throat, choking her. When the captain crushed her with his weight upon the bed, the breath was forced out of her lungs and unwanted hands roamed in places where only one man had touched her entire life. With desperation, Grace's struggles didn't cease and she bit, kicked and thrashed wildly. The pirate ignored her attempts to fight back, and trailed sloppy kisses across her exposed flesh, reaching her mouth. No matter how hard she tried to move her head away, he made a counter move, grabbing her chin roughly in his hand. His lips came crashing down on hers, his tongue plunging in deep.

Hot tears stung Grace's eyes; she couldn't hold them back, and she cursed herself for it. She didn't want to be weak, even in the middle of such a horrifying ordeal, she begged for that inner strength to remain -- to not abandon her now when she needed it most. When the captain's hand moved from grasping her face, reaching her neck and the locket that lay haphazardly across her flushed skin, Grace's eyes widened in horror. He was going to rip it off!

With her face now free from the hold of his hand, she bit down hard on his tongue, tasting blood. Buchanan howled and jerked his head back, hesitating only a second before he backhanded her hard once more -- this time drawing blood from her kiss-swollen lips. Grace gasped in shock, her mind reeling from the heavy blow. Aware of the pirate's callused hands pulling up the hem of her slip, Grace tried to kick wildly only to reward her with effortless results and another threatening raise of his hand to strike again. Just as his hand was about to fall, there was a desperate knock at the door.

"Aarr! Curse ye, ye ill-look'd dog fer interuptin'! If I hear ye rattle on that door one more time, I'll see ye dancin' the hempen jig off the port side!" Though the threat was bellowed out in such a way as to scare the very devil back to hell, there still came a timid voice from behind the closed door.

"Eh, Cap'n, sir…there be a ship approachin'."

Growling in the back of his throat, Harlan climbed off of Grace's violently shaking form. It took a moment for her to gather her wits, but soon grabbed the remaining shreds of her nightdress to cover everything she could. She scrambled off the bed and returned to the corner she had previously occupied. The dark captain didn't seem to notice, and Grace was thankful for the momentary reprieve, as he strode over to the door. He cursed again as he yanked it open, glaring down at the older man who shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"A ship ye say?"

The crewman shifted again, wringing his hands. "Aye, Cap'n."

"What colors, Coleman?" Buchanan questioned roughly.

Coleman hesitated slightly. "T'aint really the color's tha' me and the men be worryin' abou', Cap'n-"

"Well then spit out what be so pressin' as to interfere wi' me work, before me cutlass finds ye first and ye lose yer abilities t' do so!" the pirate captain bellowed out, cutting the older man off.

"It's a ship, sir- a ship wi' black sails."

Even though she had no idea of what they were speaking, Grace noticed the captain's back stiffen at the mention of this ship with black sails, and she wondered whether it would bode ill or favorably for her. She had a fleeting memory of a sailor on the ship in which she was sailing to Port Royal, mentioning a fearsome pirate ship -- a ship with black sails, captained by a ruthless man who left no survivors in the ship's wake. Grace thought that she might be ill.

"A ship wi' black sails, ye say?" His voice was almost a sickening calm, but it didn't hide the small hint of fear that was laced within.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Comin' fast?"

"Aye, she was sailin' wi' a bone in 'er teeth, and no doubt."

Grace started when the dark man turned to look at her suddenly. She saw that sturdy confidence dissolve, when his face turned white. Then he spun, grabbing his hat off the chair, and began to shout orders at the man with desperation dripping from his words. "Move all remanin' loot we pillaged tha' might still be on deck and secure it in the cargo hold-"

The rest of the orders were muffled as the door was slammed behind the two receding figures. Grace heard the door lock, and before she knew it, her legs gave out beneath her, causing her to sink to the floor. She lay there on her side, her body racked with uncontrollable tremors from the mixture of adrenaline and terror that coursed through it. Fresh tears spilled down her hot cheeks – all of the memories of what had just happened beating against her dazed mind with relentless force. Slowly, she brought her knees into her chest, curling into a ball and wishing her nightmare would soon end.

How could it have come to this?

That's it for now! Jack will be making his appearance in the next chap, I promise. :) Please review and let me know what ye think! hugs to all


	2. Captian Jack Sparrow

Author's note: Oi! Sorry for taking such a long time to update, but I do have many excuses! Only, I know you'd rather just read the story. :) Thanks to all who reviewed! Keep it up! It helps keep the inspired creative juices flowing. ((hugs)) Oh yes, I use a lot of pirate lingo that I got from a complete pirate's dictionary that I've found (mostly names, cause those are always fun), and some of the words might not be recognizable. So I'm putting a translation bit at the end of the chap. There were some in chap 1, but I'm going to ignore them, unless you ask for it. :) Enjoy, and please review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to the mouse…((shivers))

Betaer: The lovely and talented Melanie! Thank you, my love, for all your diligence and patience, and for also having the courage to speak the truth. :) ((hugs tight)) Take all you can!…

Warning: Jack Sparrow quirkiness…nuff said.

And without farther ado…

**Chapter 2: **Captain Jack Sparrow

On the main deck of the _Morning Star, _everything was inchaos as her captain rushed to and fro shouting orders at his men.

"Batten down, ye scurvy dogs! Smartly, now! Leave nothin' fer these scallywags to witness. Nothin' o' the English ship fer 'em t' see- oof! Watch it ye jolterhead, or I'll run ye through meself!" The last threat was directed to an unfortunate young pirate who happened to run right into his captain.

Harlan Buchanan moved swiftly past his men until he reached the quarter deck. He grabbed hold of the helm, but still not moving the ship in order to flee. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the large, black vessel that hastily approached them, and a string of mumbled curses passed his lips as he looked on at their possible doom coming nearer.

"Aren't we goin' t' run, Cap'n?" Coleman came to stand beside the distracted man.

The fuming pirate captain whirled his head to the side to stare at his first mate before responding in a rather surprising calm. "Run? What good would runnin' do fer ye, man, when it be the _Black Pearl_ that's doin' the chasin'?"

Aboard the Black Pearl… 

"Cap'n!"

"Aye?"

"The men are all ready t' board as ye ordered."

Captain Jack Sparrow swiveled around, almost in a drunken motion, to eye his first mate before turning lazily back towards the horizon to stare at the ship that they were surely gaining on.

"Good man, Gibbs."

"Ye know, Cap'n, there be just one thing I can't seem t' figure…"

Turning the wheel a little to the right to keep on course, Jack fiddled with his compass and pretended to be intently interested in something important. "And what is that?"

"Well, Jack, it just doesn't make no sense, if ye be askin' me. How would the likes o' Buchanan know that we were goin' after the English ship? And then have the gut and gull t' go and snatch it righ' ou' from under ye-"

Sparrow spun around, his long mane of dark dreadlocks nearly smacking the older man in the face. "If there's to be any snatching business going on, it'll be done by me, savvy?" His fingers did a little dance through the air, as if to punctuate his remark before latching back onto the cool smoothness of the helm wheel.

"Aye, Cap'n." Gibbs bit the inside of his cheek and bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet, apparently thinking hard on whether to ask his next question or not.

Finally tiring of the tension radiating off the stiff man, Jack rolled his dark eyes heavenward with a sigh. "If there's somethin' that ye wish to ask, then please…be me guest."

"Well, Cap'n…it's just that I was wantin' t' know whether we be settin' on the _Morning Star_ with friendly or- harsh- terms?"

His mood becoming very solemn, Jack took a moment to stare down the approaching ship before replying. "I'm afraid that matter will depend on Buchanan entirely."

In a matter of moments, the _Black Pearl_ and the _Morning Star_ were floating abreast.

Captain Sparrow waltzed across the main deck where his crew was struggling with the long wooden board that was to cross in between ships enabling the captains to converse.

"Handsomely, lads. Handsomely," he commented as he reached them. Stepping up onto the plank, he began to saunter across towards the _Morning Star_; Joshamee Gibbs on his coattails. They were almost halfway across, when Harlan Buchanan stepped up on it as well, his first mate following close behind.

Meeting in the middle, Jack smirked up at the dark pirate captain. No matter how much taller Buchanan was than him, he could tell the man was nervous. This pleased Sparrow immensely. Studying the man's face for a moment, his smirk seemed to widen even more when he noticed the redness and slight swollen state of his adversary's nose. That was a story he'd greatly like to hear. "Afternoon, Buchanan. Fine weather we're havin', ey?"

Harlan crossed his arms across his chest, but didn't seem quite as amused. "What be yer intentions chasin' down me ship in such a way, Sparrow? Me crew and I botherin' ye?"

Jack didn't seem to take the barely hidden slight as seriously as the taller man would've liked, while the smirk remained across his lips. "No formalities then, is it?"

"T' hell wi' 'em," Buchanan barked out before he could contain himself. It seemed that Sparrow had a way of dancing on his last nerve.

This caused the swaying pirate captain to raise a dark brow, and he took a brief glance over his shoulder at his first mate before returning his stare back to the man before him; his expression a little less friendly. "All right then, I'll get to me point: Ye have somethin' that belongs to me, Buchanan. And I want it back," Jack said matter-of-factly, and his tempter flared faintly when a small, mocking grin thinned the lips of the enemy captain.

"Why, Captain Jack Sparrow…what in earth could ye mean by that?"

Jack took a threatening step closer -- his lack of sensing boundary lines clearly shown when his face hovered just in front of Harlan's in a drunken sway. "Do not take me for such a nupsom, Buchanan. Either ye, or one of yer crew, overheard me, or one of me crew, talking back on the Isle de Fartow, of a rather delicate matter." His hand waved around in front of him before he continued. "Such as a ship of some certain significance and where its whereabouts might in fact be at the present time that was past." Jack watched as the other captain raised a questioning brow before turning to look at his first mate. The man that stood slightly behind him shrugged and shook his head.

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. "Ye took me bloody ship, ye quat! And I want me loot."

The captain of the _Morning Star _tried to look innocent, but Sparrow detected the small glimmer of triumph that resided in the man's dark eyes. "Them be some hard accusations yer bringin' against me, Sparrow. How's it ye come to such an assumption?"

At this question, Jack's expression hardened slightly, and his voice took on a more serious tone. "There's only one ship in these parts that could leave such a dastardly massacre in its wake…All fingers are pointin' yer way, mate."

A dark chuckle reverberated up from the taller man's chest. "And so they should."

Jack raised both brows at this. "So, ye're admittin' to it then?"

Harlan took a step back and stared at the other pirate captain, his haughty demeanor irritating Sparrow to new heights. "Aye, Captain Sparrow…I'll admit t' it. What a smart lad ye are fer figurin' it ou' all by yerself."

At this comment, Jack's dark brows knit together in a warning glare. "So, what's to be done about this, mate? I want what is rightfully mine- ye've got it. And I'll not hesitate to plow this ship through wiv me _Pearl_ in order to get e'ery last crate, savvy?"

Even though Buchanan struggled hard to keep his composure, Jack could tell that the man took him very seriously, and knew that the captain of the _Black Pearl_ wasn't making idle threats. If there was one thing Harlan knew, it was when he was on the smaller end of the stick. Even though he had beaten the English crew, his own hadn't left the sight unscathed, and damned if he would risk his ship and crew when he knew that fate might offer a more fitting opportune moment should he live long enough to wait for it.

With a resolute sigh, the taller captain took another step back to show that he relented. "Fine then, Sparrow, I'll not risk me crew on the likes o' ye. Take what ye can find, and then be gone wi' ye."

Jack's tense form seemed to slacken a bit as his trademark grin played across full lips once more. Keeping his dark eyes fixed firmly on the man that stood before him, he addressed his first mate, "Mr. Gibbs, take the crew aboard. Leave nothing unturned, savvy?"

"Aye, Aye cap'n!" Gibbs shouted before turning towards the _Pearl_, he began to bellow out orders. "Alright, I want e'ery mother's son which calls 'imself pirate t' move 'is scurvy arse! We've got a ship t' plunder!"

Jack nodded his head once towards Harlan who in turn spun on his heels and headed back to his ship, Sparrow following close behind him. Once he jumped off the plank and landed on the main deck of the _Morning Star_, Jack watched while his crew swarmed the space, looking for everything branded with an English merchant ship seal.

"So, Buchanan…" Jack started once he was standing beside the fidgeting pirate captain. "I presume I'd be correct if I were to guess that there were no survivors?"

Harlan didn't answer right away, his form going slightly rigid, as he seemed to be thinking over his answer. Finally, he snorted sarcastically. "'Course not, Sparrow! Ye think I'd go soft over a small English vessel?"

Jack brought a hand up and fingered the braided facial hair that hung from his chin. "I imagine you'll have a few lime-juicers after ye - oh!" Jack stopped two of his members walking by who were carrying a large crate filled with something that sounded an awful lot like clanging bottles filled with liquid.

"Aye, I suppose I will…" Harlan responded as he eyed the happy man beside him opening the crate and pulled out a bottle.

"Can never have too many of those on your tail, ey?" Jack commented distractedly as he read the label. "Imported wine…" He grimaced. "No doubt intended for some pompous squiffy and his lassie." He uncorked the bottle and took a swig. Cringing again he looked over the bottle then glanced back at the pirate staring at him quizzically. "Well, it aint rum, however- waste not…" Jack put the cork back in the bottle. "Carry on, gentleman." He gestured for his amused crewmembers to continue onto the ship with the crate, while their captain tucked the opened bottle under his arm.

"Ye know, Captain Sparrow, ye're a hard man t' figure."

Jack once again uncorked the bottle, his body swaying a little with the motion. "Why, thank you."

Just then, Gibbs interrupted both captains. "Cap'n, I think we found somethin'!"

"And what is that?" Jack questioned as he spun around. However, his smirk faded instantly as he stared at something he was not expecting to see wiggling and straining against his first mate's hold. His eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped slightly before he clamped it shut, griping the wine bottle possessively to his chest, he finally found his voice. "What the bloody hell's that!"

Translations:- 

**Jolterhead:** Clumsy oaf; blockhead.

**Nupsom:** A simpleton. A fool.

**Quat:** A pimple. An insignificant person.

**Lime-juicers:** A nickname for British ships.

**Squiffy:** A buffoon.


End file.
